Ostinato
by gardevoir
Summary: "This marriage is just for the sake of my inheritance. I don't love you, I won't love you, and I know it's the same for you."
1. Dissonance

Wheeee, new fic. c: Lyra and Silver are twenty-one in this one, okay? 'Cause if they were, like, ten like they are in the games, that'd be weird, obvs. ._.

I should probably stop making mature stories. BUT THE MATURE RATING GIVES ME LIBERTYYYYYY.

By the way, this is important:  
**ostinato**  
–_**noun**_, _**plural **_-tos. _ Music_.  
a constantly recurring melodic fragment.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Pokémon.

* * *

_**Dissonance**_

–_**noun**  
- inharmonious or harsh sound; discord; cacophony.  
Music .  
- a simultaneous combination of tones conventionally accepted as being in a state of unrest and needing completion.  
- an unresolved, discordant chord or interval.  
- disagreement or incongruity_

. = . = . = ._  
_

"Help me water these, Mizu," Lyra said, brushing the dirt off of her hands onto her overalls. She had just finished gardening in the backyard of her house for the new spring season.

Her Suicune, Mizu, sprinkled water over the flowers, gazing proudly at his trainer when he was done. "Good boy," she praised affectionately, kneeling next to him and ruffling his mane.

As she stood up and started walking to the fence to go take care of the front of the house, she saw that Mizu wasn't following. In fact, there was a low growling coming from the depths of his throat. "Mizu?" she asked, waving him over. "Why are you just standing there? Come on."

He didn't budge. Instead, he made a run for it, charging straight at his trainer. He tackled her legs so that she would fall on his back, not giving her a chance to adjust herself properly. He headed to the opened sliding door, dashing up the stairs and breaking down her room door.

Once inside, he stopped, shaking her off. She fell with the smallest of squeaks, getting up and rubbing her now sore legs. "Suiiiii... suicune," he whined, pointing his snout urgently at the door frame.

"Mizu, what in the world has gotten into you?" She shook her head and tutted, her voice naturally soft. "You even broke down my door!" She sighed and headed over to where the fallen door was. "Cune, cune!" her pokémon voiced, becoming increasingly anxious.

"Calm down, you. Why are you so irritable all of a sudden?" She stared strangely at him before she picked up the door, inspecting whether she could repair it or not. "Hm... doesn't look tooooo..." She started to sway and her speech became slurred, feeling as if she were drunk.

"Whyyyyyyy is the woooorld spi-spi-spinning?" she garbled, dropping the door and stumbling forward, tripping over it.

Mizu would have gone to retrieve his trainer, but the scent of the sleeping powder was already spreading. He had to lie down on the floor, covering his snout with his paws to keep from passing out just like Lyra. He knew she was in danger, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

A few minutes later, a figure came in, wearing a mask over their face to keep from inhaling the sedative. They lifted the limp body of Lyra, tossing her over their shoulder. Seeing this, the Suicune stood up, holding his breath as he chased after this person who was kidnapping his best friend. He had to slow down because of the energy it took to run and how little air he had conserved.

Once the person was outside, a pokéball was tossed into the air. "Use Gust," the figure spoke. The Pidgeot that emerged did as it was commanded, spreading the narcotic dust all over the town, but away from itself and its trainer. When the bird pokémon finally landed, the figure hopped on, dumping Lyra in front of them.

"Pidgeot, use Fly."

Mizu watched as the Pidgeot took off, desperate to save her. He planted his paws firmly onto the ground, positioning himself before he used Hydro Pump.

The Pidgeot narrowly avoided the attack before it soared higher, out of range for any further attacks.

The Suicune cried out to his trainer before swaying and tripping over his paws, falling to the ground on his side.

. ~ .

"Nngggghh," Lyra groaned as she shielded her eyes from the unrelenting sun. She had a massive headache upon waking up and her stomach felt as if it were churning violently.

Feeling the heat of the sun tone down, she sighed with content, moving her arm and pulling the sheets she was under closer to herself, snuggling them and burying her nose into them.

'_...Wait. I wasn't sleeping earlier. This doesn't smell like my sheets._'

Seeing her stiffen, she knew the girl was going to get up soon. "Dear, you may not want to—"

When she sat up, she clutched her head from doing that action too fast, becoming dizzy. Now that the room was spinning, she started to heave. The nurse sighed and grabbed a plastic tub, placing it on the girl's lap just in the nick of time.

Bile filled the tub.

"—get up too fast." The woman shook her head, grabbing a wet towel and placing it on the trainer's forehead as she reclined back. She removed the tub and placed it on the floor.

Breathing heavily, Lyra inspected her surroundings, seeing that she was in a simple, but luxurious, room.

"Sleeping powder doesn't exactly react well with humans," the nurse said, patting the trainer's hand.

She quickly jerked her hand away, looking as if she were ready to cry. "Wh-where am I?" she asked timidly, her voice just barely above a whisper.

"Mister Giovanni's old mansion."

Her skin became pale, the blood draining from her face. "Wh-why...?"

"Mister Silver will be here shortly to explain things to you. For now, the powder needs to get out of your system. Seems like the last of it may be gone, though." She glanced at the tub and chuckled before picking it up, leaving the room.

She sat up slowly this time, seeing a TV by the wall opposite to the bed. Glancing around, she found a remote, hitting the power button.

The room was filled with the noise of snow. She quickly punched the lower volume button after she was done flinching, sighing with relief when it was no longer audible.

Flipping through channels, she stopped when she saw her hometown of New Bark on the news. Turning up the volume, she listened as the newscaster reported about how the town was dusted over with a pokémon's sleeping powder.

Her mom then appeared on the screen, wailing about how she found her daughter's Suicune passed out and her daughter herself was nowhere to be found.

Hearing this, the memory of what happened after she was gardening with Mizu played back in her mind. The last thing she remembered was dropping the broken door and falling on it before passing out.

Putting the pieces together of what the nurse told her and what she heard on the news, she knew of only one person who could have done this.

Silver.

After turning off the TV, she searched for her shoes, slipping them on and adjusting her wrinkled overalls, making a mad dash to the door.

When she opened it and began to run again, she slammed into a solid, but still slightly pliable, object.

"It's funny how you think you can run away from me in my own home."

The familiar, bone-chilling voice rocked her core, making her let out the quietest of whimpers. She started backing away from him, stumbling over her own feet and falling to the floor on her bottom, putting an arm up to shield herself from him.

"You look so vulnerable and pitiful right now. I've always liked that about you," he purred, grabbing the arm she had lifted and pulling her to her feet.

"D-don't... Silver, please...," she murmured, her gentle voice trying to reach out to him.

"Shut up, stupid girl," he growled, yanking her back into the room. Once they were inside, he shut the door behind them and locked it so the idea of escaping wouldn't cross her mind.

He knew she wouldn't scream for help. She was too afraid of him and her voice never rose itself above a murmur.

As soon as the door was locked, he grabbed her, slamming her against the wall and trapping her, his hips grinding into hers and his hands on either side of her head.

When he brought his lips close to her neck, she whimpered again, sinking down against the wall a little and closing her eyes tight. Her whole body was shaking violently, both taking note of it. He found amusement in this while she hated herself for being so afraid.

"I see you still have that unflattering look about you." He pulled out one of her pigtails, nipping her neck rather hard.

She let out a moan, but one of pain rather than pleasure.

"Silver, Silver, please... I beg of you," Lyra whispered, her voice as shaky as her body.

"I'm in control of your life now. It would be wise of you to do as I say and keep your mouth shut."

She did as he said, her eyes deciding to tear up instead, the excess water spilling over and onto her shirt.

Silver pulled out the other pigtail, his hand trailing down to her overalls, unbuckling one of the straps.

He stopped then, pulling his lips away from her skin. He chuckled at her fear, staring down at her quivering, pained face. "Let's talk about why you're here, shall we? This can wait."

She nodded hesitantly, grabbing the strap that threatened to cause one side of her overalls to slide off of her body.

"Giovanni's forcing me to marry if I want to inherit everything he owns."

Suddenly, she became completely still, her face drained and the blood replaced with dread. She knew what this meant.

"B-but why..."

His snort cut her off. He gave her a look, staring at her as if she were absolutely stupid. "I didn't want to choose just anyone. If I really wanted to, I could have just chosen one of the former Team Rocket grunts that still serve my dad. But then I thought about you and how I could take revenge for what you did. And here we are."

She breathed audibly, starting to hyperventilate a little. He chortled, smirking at her.

She always hated that smile. It was the smile that had gotten her into trouble with him before in the first place.

"This marriage is just for the sake of my inheritance. I don't love you, I _won't_ love you, and I know it's the same for you." When he raised a hand, she cringed, expecting to be hit. Instead, he used his hand to tuck her hair behind her ear.

She would have preferred to have been hit.

He finally took a step back, looking her over a few times. "Don't put your hair back in those pigtails ever again. Those overalls too." She nodded. "This is only your room for the next few days. The wedding will be at the end of this week. Do you understand?"

She nodded again, watching him walk to the door. She combed her hair with her fingers since she figured he wanted her hair to stay down.

"Good girl," he commented with that spiteful smirk again. Just before he shut the door, he told her, "Try to escape again and you'll never live to see your family or friends ever again."

After she heard the door click shut, she fell to her knees, sobbing into her hands.

. ~ .

Some maids had come in sometime after Lyra calmed down, ushering her into the bathroom and scrubbing her down. After that, her hair was fixed so that the ends were straight, her nails were painted, and anything else they felt need to be primped was primped.

Since the day was ending, they dressed her in a nightgown, a silk one that seemed a little bit too fancy for her tastes. And before the maids left, they left a tray of dinner on the nightstand next to the bed.

Thankful for this gift of privacy, she grabbed the tray and placed it on her lap, picking at it like a Pidgey would. She turned the TV back on, changing the channel to something other than the news. She wanted something to take her mind off of what happened today.

After all, she only had a few days to enjoy herself as much as she could before she would spend the rest of her life in hell.

* * *

**A/N:** I figured it'd be fun to do a darker piece. And I was right!

Silver and Lyra have a bit of past history that we'll get to in the later chapters. c:

Hopefully you guys will enjoy this fic as well!


	2. Bellicose

Just by the way, I'm using the English translation of the original musical term. Because it's easier for me that way. xD__

******Disclaimer:** I do not own Pokémon.

* * *

_**Bellicose**_

_**–adjective  
**__- inclined or eager to fight; aggressively hostile; belligerent; pugnacious._

. = . = . = .

"Miss Lyra, for someone who's about to be wedded today, you don't seem very happy about it." An attendant was brushing at her lengthy hair, the dark auburn silk growing longer over the past ten years. The assistant was deciding whether the hair should be pinned up or left down.

Lyra herself just snorted quietly, knowing that others didn't know that this marriage was against her will.

The lady chose down, so she felt her hair fall gracefully to her mid back, the ends ticking her just under her shoulder blades. "By the way, I'm Kris, Master Silver's assistant. Because you'll be marrying him today, I'll also be your aid. Feel free to call me whenever you find you need any help."

The former trainer just nodded. "Oh, and also, I was told you need to wear this." The almond-eyed girl glanced over her shoulder to where Kris was, seeing the woman holding a garter.

All color drained from her everywhere.

"I'm not wearing that," she hissed, the entire sentence coming out just like a snake's intimidating, but soft, sound. The assistant turned her head, perking up her ears. "What was that, Miss Lyra? I can't hear you."

"I'm not wearing that!" she said a little louder, still a bit hard for the woman to hear. But she got the gist of what was said. "Unfortunately, I've been ordered to make you wear this. If you don't, we'll both be scolded."

The bride groaned and waited until she got closer to take it out of her hand, putting it on herself. '_This is ridiculous. Not only am I just some figure for appearance's sake, but I'm also some kind of sex toy._' She flinched a little at the thought though, those last two words cutting her deep.

There were just some memories that were better left suppressed.

She was helped into the dress, being careful not to get her hair caught in the small mayhem. When it was on, she went to the full-length mirror near the vanity.

The wedding dress Silver had chosen for her had one strap that went onto her left shoulder, an elaborate white flower perched at the collarbone. The mid-section of the dress fit her form perfectly, the smooth cloth accentuating the curves she had. At the waist, the dress turned into a flowing river of material, the train trailing out a few feet behind her.

She hated to admit it, but the dress was beautiful. Kris finished prepping her by adding the veil on top of her head. "Okay, all set, Miss Lyra! Have fun!" She grinned and stole one last glance at the wife-to-be before she disappeared.

The timid girl went back to the vanity, sitting down at peering at herself in the mirror, scowling at her appearance. If she was getting married to who she wanted to, she would have been as giddy as all the other women in the mansion, squealing with delight to see a young girl getting married to "the love of her life."

But today was a death sentence. Today marked the day where she lost all freedom, all dignity, all hopes, all dreams.

All life.

She would become nothing but an empty shell of herself, just an item to her soon-to-be husband. And he didn't even really want her. He just wanted revenge.

Lyra was glad she opted for no make-up, as she began to sob, her emotions welling up inside of her. For the entire week, she stayed emotionless, closing herself off to anyone that attempted to interact with her. In all honesty, the shock hadn't hit her yet. But now, reality had finally set in, crashing down on her weak, feeble body.

She grabbed a tissue from the box that was on the vanity, only allowing herself just a few minutes of grievance. Once her tears were cleaned up and her eyes showed little evidence of the crying she did, she gathered the skirt of the dress in her hands, walking out of the room.

On the floor she was on, the third floor of the mansion, there was hardly a human in sight. Not much occurred, all the hustle and bustle going on on the ground floor. The noises of preparation floated up and around the building: there was the shouting of orders, the crash of utensils falling, the squeak of quick-moving shoes, and the low whispers of gossip.

Glad to have this moment of loneliness, she floated along the floor, deciding to investigate around. There was an abundance of closed doors. Her own room, the one that she was given temporarily, was merely a guest room, so she assumed that these were probably the same, or maybe the servants' rooms.

Since there wasn't much to see on this floor, she wandered down to the second level, seeing what she could there. On this level, she found an expansive meeting room, a few more spare rooms, and what appeared to be an entertainment room. It had a couple of couches and a counter. Further investigation exposed that there was a mini-bar in the room, along with a few other things for food and drinks. There was also a projector that was turned on, but not playing anything, and a rotisserie, some hot dog wieners rolling around on it.

Someone had been in here recently.

Reluctantly stepping down the grand staircase now to get to the first floor, she hid behind a pillar until the coast was clear. Scuttling off in a random direction that seemed to be empty, she walked until she came upon two huge, heavy double doors. Looking around tentatively, she turned the handles and pulled, finding that it was unlocked. She opened the doors just wide enough for her to slip through, gasping when she saw what was inside.

An ebony grand piano.

She walked gracefully up to it, lifting the fall and pressing a few keys to see if it was in tune. Ecstatic to find that it was, she lifted the lid, putting up the prop and taking a seat at the piano bench.

Her hands hovered over the keys before she decided on a piece that described exactly how she felt.

Using the foot pedals to further amplify her emotions and the sound, she played passionately, the music floating out of her fingers and through the slightly opened door.

Those that were helping set up heard the pounding of the keys, pausing in their tracks at the sound. "Isn't the only piano in here the one that..."

"Yes. I thought everyone knew that they aren't—"

Everyone silenced themselves and went back to work when they saw the master of the manor storming across the foyer to reach the room where the piano was located.

Lyra's playing was abruptly interrupted by Silver yanking her hands off of the keys, slamming the fall down. "What do you think you're doing!"

"I was—I was just—"

"Don't you _ever_ touch this piano again, do you hear me! You're not at liberty to do as you please! Don't touch things that don't belong to you!"

She backed way from him, closing her eyes tight and waiting for the onslaught to end.

"Master Silver, Master Silver! Calm down! She had no idea that she wasn't supposed to touch it! And it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding!"

He stopped shouting at her to see his attendant that came to the bride's rescue. He glared at the almond-eyed girl for a good, long moment before huffing, briskly walking past his assistant out of the room.

"Are you alright?" Kris asked the scarred girl. She nodded hesitantly, though there were tears in the corner of her eyes.

"You poor thing. You didn't deserve to have him yell at you like that. And he's supposed to be your husband in just a few hours!" She shook her head, taking one of the girl's hands and holding it in between hers. "But he gets irrationally upset when anyone touches this piano. This is an heirloom from his grandfather, who was closer to him than anyone else. He was the one that taught Master Silver how to play, but ever since his grandfather passed away, he hasn't touched it since."

The bride looked down at her held hand, making it obvious that she felt rather guilty. "It's okay, don't feel bad. You didn't know." Her shoulder was rubbed. "Remember, I'm here for you."

"Th-thank you, I guess," she murmured, gently taking her hand back and grabbing the skirt of her dress, standing up.

As the girl fled, Kris watched, shaking her head. "She's a shy one. Poor thing won't last very long..."

. ~ .

The music signifying the beginning of the wedding may as well have been the start of a funeral precession. The minute she heard the organ play its first note, she knew she was doomed.

A voice in the back of her head questioned, "**How did they get an organ in here in the first place?**"

But it was just better for everyone if you didn't question rich people.

Instead of walking down the aisle with her father, whom she didn't even know, she was forced to walk with a well-dressed, but no less intimidating, Feraligatr. And she knew it was his.

Her and her pokémon had encountered this beast quite a few times way back when.

As she moved step by step, which was the tradition, she heard a sharp gasp, then a few short, surprised murmurs.

She didn't want to look up from the bouquet in her hands, but the voices sounded familiar to her. Risking it, she glanced around, feeling as if time had frozen when she saw her friends.

And her mother.

Their eyes met for just a second before she had to look away. She knew they would try to find her during the reception.

She made a note to herself to avoid them at all costs.

When she finally made it to where Silver stood waiting for her, she attempted to look happy, or, at least, content. Time seemed to drag on as the vows were said. When he had to put the ring on her finger, she wanted to yank her hand away from his, the touch icy and not at all welcoming.

Once time time for "I do"s came around, though, time paused itself again. She took a mental snapshot of this moment, remembering it as the start of her life of hell.

She was the only one stuck in this pause though, for the celebrant had to call her name a few times. "Lyra? Lyra?"

"Hm? O-oh, uhm... I-I...," she clenched her jaw for a moment, her eyes shut tight.

She could feel Silver's piercing gaze on her. If she prolonged this anymore, she was sure the consequences would be dire.

"I do."

"Then you may kiss the bride."

After her veil was lifted, his lips found their way to hers. She tried not to protest and scream when he put an arm around her waist, pulling her closer and forcing his tongue into her mouth.

Those unassociated with her started to clap and holler, making up for those that weren't.

She was much more than thankful when the kiss finally broke.

When the reception began, there was chatter aplenty, people split up into their little cliques.

Lyra herself had tried to run off somewhere to get away, but Silver had basically hand-cuffed her to himself, forcing her to follow him around everywhere. At least he was the one doing all the talking.

Obliged to listen to these conversations, she discovered that Giovanni had become terminally ill and he didn't have much longer to live. He knew his son would be quick to jump on everything he owned, so he came up with the condition that, if his son got married before he passed on, he would willingly give all of his properties to his son.

She didn't know who she hated more: Giovanni for coming up with the stupid condition, or his son for choosing her to marry.

She was pretty certain she would have chosen her now-husband if asked, though.

As they were waltzing around from group to group, her mother managed to track her down. "Lyra! Oh, my lyre!" She was locked in a lung-crushing embrace, unable to move as her mom pulled her away from the redhead. "I though I'd never see you again after what happened in New Bark... and then I get this fancy letter in the mail, telling me I was invited to a wedding..."

She trailed off when she saw her daughter's husband eying them carefully, daring his new in-law to speak out of line. "Did you willingly marry him," she whispered, moving close to her child's ear so only they could hear anything, glaring right back at the boy as she did.

She shook her head no, an exasperated look on her face. Her back was to the groom, so he couldn't see the misery on her face. "He's just marrying me so he can get his dad's properties," she whispered back, holding tight to her mother, feeling tears prick her eyes.

Just as her mother was about to respond, Lyra saw Ethan jogging up to them.

And so did Silver.

"There's a few other people we need to see," the redhead lied, grabbing her arm and snatching her away from her mother.

She glanced over her shoulder, seeing her desperate-looking friend stand next to her only parent, both sharing the same helpless expression.

. ~ .

'_I should have figured that this would be the fourth floor,_' Lyra thought when she was dragged up there later that evening.

She was alone for the time being, since Silver had run off to do something. Taking this moment to relax a little, she pulled the veil off of her head and tossed it onto a chair, also slipping off the heels she was wearing. Sighing, she walked over to the windowed door on the far side of the room, opening them and closing her eyes, embracing the wind that whipped around and licked her body.

Reopening her eyes, she could see the city of Goldenrod not too far off. The city lights made it seem like grounded stars surrounded by greenery, to make up for the lack of stars she could see in the navy sky.

She glanced behind her when she heard the room door open, scowling inwardly when she saw who it was.

Though she shouldn't have expected anyone else.

"Close those doors," he ordered. She begrudgingly obliged.

"Come here."

'_Great, I've also become a Growlithe. Why did I expect any less?_' She stumbled over the skirt of the dress, catching herself before she hit the floor.

He laughed.

She walked the rest of the distance with what little dignity she had left.

When she reached him, he lifted her up bridal-style and dumped her onto the bed. Before she could even attempt to escape, he gathered her wrists in one hand and started to pull off her dress with the other.

Her screams came out as weak pants instead, her vocal chords unable to handle that kind of strain. She struggled valiantly, but she wasn't strong enough to fight him off.

He kicked the dress off of the bed, his hand reaching for the garter on her though she had been practically threatened to wear.

Her opposing body stopped moving, her chest visibly rising and falling from the effort she made, her breathing heavy. It was no use. He was going to do whatever he wanted to her and there was nothing she could do about it. Especially now.

Sensing she had given up, he let go of her wrists, staring down at her. He hid the questioning expression he would have worn, but he didn't do a good job of hiding it in his maroon eyes.

"Just—just please be gentle," she said softly, her voice also wavering. She turned her head to the side and closed her eyes, waiting for him to continue.

There was a short moment of silence, her breathing and racing heart the only things able to be heard.

"Ugh, forget it," he said, suddenly sounding repulsed. After he pulled the garter off of her, he flopped to her left, letting her go free. "It's no fun when you give up. And all I really wanted to do was see your terrified face. Go change."

She skittered off of the bed and into the bathroom, putting her back against the door once she was inside. She had a hand over her heart and she took a peek at herself in the mirror. Her face was splotched with red, the way it always looked when she was ready for a breakdown.

Lyra splashed her face with cool water, feeling her complexion was overheating. After she changed into the nightgown she found hanging near the bathtub, she walked out to see him twirling the garter around on his finger with one hand, the other folded under his head, staring up at the cloth.

All too reluctant, she got into the bed beside him, but with her back facing him.

She felt the bed shake a little as he got up, hearing his feet shuffle across the floor and a door close.

When he returned, she was only partially surprised when he grabbed her waist, pulling her to him. "We're seeing Giovanni tomorrow. Stay quiet like you always are and if he asks you anything, answer appropriately and don't give him too much information."

She nodded, grimacing at how she could feel his body pressed up against her back. At least they had clothes on.

Minutes ticked by, his breathing ruffling her hair every other second. The ticklish feeling reminded her of a day not too long ago when she found herself in almost the same exact position.

How great it would be to turn back time.

When his breathing steadied and his hold on her grew weak, she slowly turned herself around, gazing up at his cleared face. "He almost looks harmless... likable." She chuckled dryly at her comment, knowing he was the farthest thing from it.

Carefully lifting his arm, she gave it back to him, inching her way off of the bed. Once her feet lightly touched the floor, she tiptoed to the room door, opening it and closing it quietly. She breathed deeply, flitting off to the ground floor.

Coupled with her long, auburn hair and silky, cream nightgown, she appeared as a ghost, gliding quickly across the smooth marble. The few servants that were still up and working spotted her, unsure of whether she was truly an apparition, a figment of their imagination. By the time they blinked and rubbed their eyes to be sure, she had already moved on.

It was harder to remember where everything was when it was all illuminated in dim lighting. Soft-light nightlights had been placed every few feet into the outlets, in case anyone needed to walk around. Because the place wasn't as visible and she wasn't all that familiar with the layout, it took her a few times of trial and error for her to reach the room she was looking for.

The piano room.

The delicate structure looked even more beautiful in the night, a high window in the room letting it bask in moonlight. She took her time walking up to it, the nagging voice in her head telling her she wasn't supposed to be here pushed to the back of her mind. The louder voice was all she heard, the one that coaxed her into coming here in the first place.

She hadn't touched a piano in years before that morning and, now that she knew one was here, her fingers itched to feel the hard, smooth keys underneath them.

She could care less if Silver ripped out her throat this time. It wasn't as grand of a method of revenge as his was, but it was good enough for her if it ticked him off.

And Lyra had a _really_ strong desire to play.

The lid was still propped up from earlier, so all she needed to do was sit down and lift the fall. She closed her eyes and thought of a different piece to play, her fingers hovering over the keys as they usually did when this occurred.

Hesitantly, she pressed down on the keys gently, letting the first not of the composition ring out and resonate throughout the entire manor, the other notes following fluidly after.

The one she chose was solemn but peaceful this time, expressing her inner feelings, speaking for her since her own voice always seemed to fail her.

Those awake and listening murmured amongst themselves, theorizing that it was probably the "ghost" from earlier performing.

When she finished, she folded her hands in her lap, holding down the foot pedal that allowed her to hold the last note as long as she wanted, a fermata.

She slid her foot off eventually, not looking at the door which had opened just a few moments ago.

"Weren't you told not to come back in here?"

She studied the black and white keys in front of her, bracing herself for whatever would come next.

"What's compelling you to return here! I specifically told you not to touch what isn't yours! Are those instructions too hard for you to follow! Do I have to chain you down to get you to stay away!" He slammed a hand down on the piano, producing a sour sound, causing her to jump.

She took a chance to glance at him, seeing that his other hand was balled into a fist. Slowly lifting her head, she stared up at Silver, who seemed to be contemplating something, jaw clenched in anger and frustration. When he caught her staring at him out of the corner of his eye, he faced her.

She shrunk away from his gaze, that worried, fearful expression plastered onto her face again.

"Get out," he said gruffly, looking away from her again.

She hurriedly scrambled to her feet, fleeing out of the room. But when she thought over something, she gradually came to a stop, looking back at the doors she ran away from.

Lyra hadn't seen it very clearly and she was pretty sure she had hallucinated, but when she had shied away from his cold stare, she thought she saw a moment of hurt in his eyes, the pitiful emotion disappearing as quickly as it had come.

Noticing that he was still in the room, not following after her, she returned to the door, peeking through the crack to watch him.

. ~ .

Silver watched as the girl left, sensing she seemed a little more than appreciative to get away from him. Shaking his head and sitting on the bench, he looked down at the piano, mentally seeing which keys she had pressed.

He knew the composition she chose. It was the last piece his grandfather had taught him before he passed.

'_That was ten years ago..._' A whole decade since he had touched these keys, since he had played even the simplest of songs.

Since he had played that piece that meant the most to him.

And his wife just played it seconds ago, as if it were a measly four notes sloppily applied to a staff.

'_That composition... it had a reprise, didn't it?_' Thinking on it, he faintly remembered his grandfather playing it for him, the reprise being the next thing he was going to learn next.

But his motivation died with his dear family member.

'_He left the score somewhere here... he always left them with me... maybe it's..._' He stood up and lifted the cushion of the bench, seeing the aged piles of papers inside. He began digging through them until he found what he was looking for.

The Ostinato.

He placed the score upon the music rack, reading the notes and murmuring to himself which finger hit which key. His hands floated above them, ready to play.

When he tried to begin, he started off wrong. Retrying a few times, he only got the first few measures of the piece before he kept hitting the wrong notes. He was rusty.

He couldn't do it.

With his frustrations growing, he slammed the fall down like he had that morning, swiping at the score to let the sheets fall to the ground in a scattered mess.

"Fuck this shit!" He shouted, getting up hastily and stomping to the door. He was too enraged and focused on his failure to hear the patter of feet fleeing.

As the doors banged shut behind him, a gust of wind rustled the papers, the loose leaves being brought just a little closer together.

* * *

**A/N:** Pianos are srs bznz, you guys.


	3. Dolent

_**Wow.**_ S'been a while.

A little note, I changed Cara to Kris 'cause I realized how much I hate adding OOCs to a story if it's for a fandom unless they're useless extras. |D

So yeah.

******Disclaimer:** I do not own Pokémon.

* * *

_**Dolent**_

_**–**__**adjective**_  
- _sorrowful_

. = . = . = .

Lyra stared out of the window of the luxury car they were in, her sight sometimes focusing to watch the rivulets of water streak down the glass, off to visit Silver's father at the hospital. She would have much rather traveled by pokémon, even if it were raining, to feel the elements all around her, but she didn't exactly have the freedom to voice her opinions anymore, unsurprisingly.

What _truly_ shocked her was the fact that she had been holding herself together so carefully so well. This was only her second day of marriage, but already, she felt strained.

She was once again dressed in something her husband chose for her, a tight, but elegant, sheath dress with a shawl, just to keep her modest for presentation. Earlier, she had put her hair up, thinking it would look better with her attire, but he reprimanded her for it, taking her hair out of the bun she had put it in.

And breakfast was a whole other story, one she would have preferred to forget.

They were being chauffeured for this ride, the couple sitting in the back seats and Kris taking the passenger's seat up front. The ride was tense, the silence unbearable. But the former trainer wouldn't even consider being the one to break it.

When they reached the hospital, the chauffeur parked on the curb, getting out of the car to hold open the door for her, holding an umbrella for her to take as she stepped out, Silver stepping out after her and taking the umbrella from her before she had a chance to twirl it for her own minor amusement.

While walking to the front doors of the hospital, Kris walked behind them, raising an eyebrow when she saw that the man she worked for was whispering things to his wife.

"Remember what I told you," he said to the lyre, grabbing and holding her hand without warning.

She loathed acting, especially for things such as this. It was all an act, pretending to be a loving, married pair for the sake of his father, but she wasn't sure whether she could pull it off or not. Her fear was too difficult to disguise with emotions, even more so when she had to use fake ones.

When they walked through the automatic sliding doors of the hospital, his arm snaked around her waist and he kissed her cheek, the helpless girl having to resist her urge to cringe. A few days before their wedding, he told her that if she even flinched a centimeter away from anything he did in public, there would be consequences.

And she was sure she didn't want to find out what they were.

They both nodded politely at the clerk manning the front desk, the woman doing the same, already knowing who they were and what they were here for.

Kris' shoes were the only things audible as they moved down the halls, boarding the elevator and fining the room the former crime boss was staying on in the sixth floor. When they were in front of the door, he knocked, which was the polite thing to do, before opening it, greeting his father with a slight smile, having practiced it many times.

Lyra saw a chair in the corner of the room, but as she tried to pull away to get it, he held her waist tighter, not allowing her to escape to move a mere five feet away.

It was a good thing she was wearing flats.

"I'll stay out here," Kris said, standing right outside the door. "Business to take care of..." And the affairs of this family certainly didn't need her involvement.

The wife stared at the closing room door, imagining the click it made the key of someone locking a jail cell. Turning back to face the dying man lying on the bed who was staring back at them, she gave him her best sincere-looking smile.

"So you're the one who's beaten my son in battles time and time again, hm?" he commented with a chuckle, knowing that his son hated when this was brought up.

The fact that he seemed to know a bit of history between the two of them made her a bit uneasy. What if he knew about...

Ignoring that thought and looking at this man, her curiosity couldn't be more obvious, besides the unease she felt. She had heard of how he, the leader of Team Rocket, just disappeared one day after being defeated by Red; she witnessed this event when she visited the Ilex forest one day with the Celebi she owned.

"I returned to Silver when I had gotten news of my own father's death," he told her, answering some questions he figured she probably had. "But by that time, it seems I'd already caught something during my absence... the cancer seemed like any other cold, so we put off seeing a doctor for it. When we finally realized it was more serious than that, it was already too late. I've been at this hospital for half a year now."

They could see that it was slowly eating away at his body, leaving him a pile of skin and bones, his tone a pale, sickly tint.

"But enough about me. That's not the reason you two are you are here today, is it?" He made that dry chuckle once more and looked to his son now. "Silver, all properties I own belong to you now. I no longer have a use for them anyhow.

The redhead broke out a genuine grin and approached the bedside, grasping his father's hand and shaking it. "Thank you," he said, figuring he could at least show gratitude for a father he still wasn't too fond of. "Let's go, Lyra."

"Wait."

He had turned around to face the girl, but he glanced back at his father with a suspicious, unappreciative glare. "_What?_"

"I would at least like to speak to your new spouse."

His son grunted and walked forward, pushing her toward the hospital bed. "M-Me?" She mumbled, fidgeting with the edge of her dress, glancing at her shoes.

"Alone, preferably."

Her husband worked his jaw then, taking a defensive stance. "Whatever you need to tell her, you can tell me."

"I would really like to say a few things to my daughter-in-law." It was a simple sentence, but even as he was dying, it carried the weight of authority.

Finally backing down, Silver threw his hands up in frustration, storming out of the room, blatant in expressing his brooding.

"Have a seat," Giovanni said after the door slammed shut.

She looked to him, the chair, and back before she decided to do so, pulling the chair to the bed, a few feet away from him.

"A little closer, if you will."

She frowned, but reluctantly brought the chair right up to the edge, though she leaned back as far as she could in it. Staring down at her lap now, she twiddled her thumbs as she waited for him to speak.

"There's no need to be afraid of me, you know," he said at last after watching her nervous motions for some time. "As you can see, my son and I are nothing alike."

Clenching her jaw shut and closing her eyes tight, she tentatively lifted her head, fearful about reopening her eyes. When she finally did, she saw the tender, understanding look on his face. Though she still had her doubts about him, she let her guard fall, if only just a little.

"I don't ask that you trust me, but I do ask that you take my words for what they are."

Lyra nodded, sure that she could at least do that... probably.

"I'm sure you've heard many things about me," he started, taking a pause to let her think that over. It was true that she had, and her Celebi had even given her a "treat" by letting her see the very day he left Silver behind. "The most common thing I know most of Kanto and Johto hold me infamous for is being the former leader of Team Rocket... and the humiliation of being defeated by Red."

She thought of the boy she had met on the mountain top years ago, who she had quickly taken a liking to, the former champion quickly becoming one of her closest friends. When she thought about him, she always thought how different things might be if he were still around.

"Mrs. Lyra, do you believe in redemption?" Giovanni asked as she was letting her thoughts wander. The question brought her back to reality, also causing her to stare at him with unguarded surprise, catching herself and fixing her expression.

Seeing how she was quick to defend herself to the point where she even hid her expressions caused him to chuckle once more, though this time, it held no humor. "So, Mrs. Lyra. Do you?"

She opened her mouth wordlessly before it clicked shut. Folding her hands in her lap now, she looked down at them, feeling as if she were being targeted. "U-usually I would s-say yes b-but..."

"'But'?"

"Th-there's... there's one person that I just don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive... no matter what they do..." Her voice cracked in quite a few places as she iterated this to him, having to squeeze her eyes shut again.

He had to look away from her now, knowing exactly who she was talking about as well as the event that occurred to make her respond this way. "I see." When he turned his head back to glance at her again, he could see that her hands had become fists and her body was shivering, the poor thing trying unsuccessfully to suppress her emotions.

"It's okay to cry, Mrs. Lyra. You look like you've been trying not to for far too long. Even beautiful girls like you have to break down sometimes."

The glass mask that she wore for this occasion shattered completely then and there, a wail forming in her throat, far louder than her usual voice level. Her hands flew to her face, shielding her now-disfigured expression, but the tears seeping through her fingers.

The pity he felt for this girl at this moment was indescribable, feeling his own heart stir a little. "You pretended to stay strong, but you're more fragile than that, aren't you?" He sighed, sympathetically putting an arm around her back, pushing her down gently so that her head was resting on the edge of the mattress of the bed as she cried into the sheets. While she sobbed, he rubbed her back soothingly, all the while cursing his son mentally for the damage he'd done to this innocent woman.

Once her bawls had subsided to small hiccups and stray tears, she sat up, keeping her eyes on the large, damp stain she had created on the fabric. "S-sorry," she murmured, attempting to regain her composure.

"They're merely sheets; the nurses are changing them soon anyhow. What is truly important right now is if you feel a bit more relieved. Do you?"

She nodded without hesitation, wiping at her face. "T-Th-Thank you."

"You may not forgive him for what he did, and it's understandable, but just know that the guilt is always there for him, even if it doesn't show. It's suffocates him just as much as it does you. If not more."

She found this all very hard to believe, but she was doing as he requested and listening to his words for what they were.

"I implore you to find it in your heart to give him a chance for redemption, if nothing else. That is my dying wish."

He flinched a little at his last line, remembering a different particular part of her life, but one that she always kept noted in her mind, rather unlike the other she would try to, but never could, forget. "I... I'll try."

"If that's the only thing within your capabilities, then so be it." Giovanni leaned back in his bed now, shutting his eyes. "Thank you for this talk." It was obvious that, with those words, their conversation was over.

Ceasing all movement for a moment, Lyra got up and bowed slightly, skittering out of the room.

"Are you satisfied with what you've done?" He asked the empty room, save for him, imagining that Silver could hear his very words. "Maybe one day, you'll apologize..."

. ~ .

The caramel-eyed girl was once again ditched inside of a room, this one being the room she shared with Silver. Because she was alone, she gave herself more liberty to do as she pleased; this was also _her_ room too now. To exercise her self-given right she so deserved, she opened the balcony doors of the room, stepping out onto it and taking in the calming scent of greenery after the rain. But her antics didn't stop there. She walked up to the railing and lifted herself up, sitting down and swinging her legs over the metal, using her arms to support her as she sat on the railing as she gazed out over the mansion's surroundings. She swayed her legs, the swinging light to keep herself from falling off of the balcony and to the ground below, spelling out certain death.

Not that she wouldn't have taken that over being here, married to a horrible, despicable man.

If she could call him one.

As she looked around, she saw the garden not far from the back entrance of the mansion, the dew-dropped flowers and willowy trees calling out to her, reminding her of home.

As these thoughts raced through her mind, she turned herself around, deciding to go back inside and take care of some personal matters, just as her husband was doing.

Giving the room a cursory glance, she found a phone on his side of the bed, causing her to shake her head disapprovingly. '_Seems like I may have some sleepless nights..._' Putting that thought away for later, she dialed her mother's number, hearing a few rings before voice of her mother was able to be heard. "Hello?"

"Good... good afternoon, Mom."

"Lyra! Is this my little lyre!"

"Err, yes..."

"Oh Arceus, are you okay? Did anything happen to you since yesterday? You two... you didn't _do_ anything last night did you? Did he try to—"

"Mom, it's okay. I... I had to share a bed with him and nothing more," she replied, nipping the question in the bud, feeling no desire to revisit painful memories. "If you could just tell Ethan that I'm sorry... and tell my team that I miss them... please take good care of them."

"Of course. Will do, my dear." Her mother sounded quite solemn, wondering how she could fix her child, or at least make her feel a little better about the situation at hand. Nothing she had tried ever succeeded in putting her broken girl back together. "Is there anything else you need?"

Lyra shook her head as though her mom could see. "That's all. Love you, Mom."

"I love you and I miss you, my little lyre," her mom murmured before hanging up, the solemnity completely undisguised.

The girl just stared at the phone for some time, deciding to get up when she felt she had given herself enough pity for one day. After changing out of the clothes she had visited Giovanni in, she got into her sweater-overalls combo, always feeling the most comfortable in those, no matter where she was. She kept her hair down, on the off -chance that she might see Silver before she returned to their room.

She scuttled down to the bottom floor, avoiding being seen by as many people as possible, the difficulty increasing as she reached a lower floor. Upon reaching the first floor, she forced herself to talk to one of the servants, though she obviously had trouble getting the words out. Once the servant finally understood her question, he pointed her in the right direction, the woman going about on her way, face calming as she took in a breath of garden air when she reached it. She could smell just-laid fertilizer and freshly cut grass, all mixing with the humidity left behind from the rain.

If she had to play piano less, she would make up for it by being in this garden more.

Lyra hummed to herself with her hands folded behind her back, wishing her pokémon could be here with her as she viewed luscious scenery before her. Her humming and singing wasn't the greatest, but she at least knew how to stay on key while doing so, all thanks to the piano skills she acquired over the years.

Unfortunately for her, the pleasantry of the moment quickly faded, cutting herself of when she heard familiar voices near her location. A bit of panic set in as she looked around hurriedly for a place to hide, using a towering oak tree as her cover. Within minutes, the voices sounded as if they were right before her, requesting that she listen.

Cautiously peeking out from behind the tree, Lyra caught a glimpse of her husband and Kris, the former talking into his advanced PokéGear. "Well then fix it!" He shouted, the shocked expression of the person on the other side of the screen showing just how sudden his outburst was.

"Ah, Master Silver, I could always..."

"You can talk to him later, Kris," he grumbled, slapping the device shut with one hand before looking to his assistant. "I rely on you too much anyway, especially this morning. Take a break."

The dark-haired woman pouted, crossing her arms. "But I wouldn't be doing my job."

"It's an order from me, isn't it?"

She opened her mouth to say something, then clicked it shut, her cheeks inflating, knowing he was right.

What happened next left a pang in Lyra's heart that she didn't quite understand.

Silver was laughing at the appearance of her face, and, after a moment of pretending to be upset, she laughed along with him.

And he appeared genuinely happy for the first time she'd seen in years.

As she dwelled on this nagging irritation she was trying to put a finger on, she inspected Kris closely, comparing herself to his assistant.

Kris' dark brown, almost black hair was up in an elegant hair clip, but it still managed to spill over her shoulders. The eavesdropping woman estimated that her hair went down to the small of her back if it weren't up like that. The color of her hair matched the color of her eyes and her body was all long legs and defined curves, the inferiority Lyra felt growing by the second as she made her observations. The woman's makeup was lightly applied, enhancing already gorgeous facial features. She was also wearing closed black heels, making her appear taller than she already was, wearing a slimming olive green pencil skirt and a fitting white blouse to top it all off. She was also carrying a clipboard, a file, and her PokéGear, grabbing a pen from behind her ear, giving her that poised professional, businesswoman look.

Looking down at her own attire, the former trainer felt she didn't even compare.

Shaking her head, she stalked off quietly, all these thoughts muddling her mind. As she was walking to a different part of the expansive garden, one image kept flashing in her thoughts, causing her to become increasingly frustrated about it, much to her dismay.

The two had been laughing.

'_They seemed so happy together..._,' she thought, hugging herself with her hands on her elbows. '_She seems to do everything for him, even offering to work when he told her to take a break. They looked really chummy with each other too... if she can make him happy, why did he bother marrying _me_ instead?_'

She dwelled on this far more than she knew she should have, feeling inadequate, betrayed, hurt. But she was stuck here and there was nothing she could do about it.

A tree was victim to her back her her clothes were damp with a blend of rainwater and tears, the broken bird sobbing for the second time that day.

And this was only the second day of being married for the rest of her life.

. ~ .

Silver still wasn't back from wherever he had gone, leaving Lyra alone in a much-too-spacious room. She was sitting on the bed, hugging her knees while she watched the imitation stars that were the city lights, imagining herself among the few amounts of citizens that would still be about this late.

Left alone with her thoughts as she stared, anything and everything popped into her head.

Eventually, she was reminded of her skills as a pianist, and the piano that resided in this very mansion, remembering that feeling she got whenever she was looking at a sheet from a composition, fingers posed on the keys, ready to play; the tips itched to touch the ivory black and white keys.

Coming to her decision, she leapt out of bed, the last worry on her mind the thin, silky, stark-white nightgown she was dressed in.

As she made her way to the moonlit piano room, the servants mumbled amongst themselves about the ghost appearing for the second time in a row.

Leaving their ghostly superstitions behind at a breakneck pace, she opened the door gradually, feeling her heart go aflutter and air leave her lungs as she eyed the grand structure from where she stood.

When she reluctantly tore her gaze from it after she had stared at it for a good, long while, she finally noticed the sheet music scattered all over the floor. Tutting once, she picked them up and read the notes, recognizing them as the Ostinato's reprise.

The piece Silver was trying to play last night.

Sighing, she collected the remainders of the papers that had gone astray, humming the tune to herself, taking pride in the fact that she could play both parts without looking at the composition, pretending to gloat about this to him.

After she had gathered them all up, she walked over to the piano bench, sitting own on it as she organized the papers so that they were in order. Once that was done, she evened them out by tapping the bottom edges on the music rack, smiling to herself when she finished.

She knew she should have left then, but she stayed put, enjoying the peaceful silence of the room, the presence of the grand piano enough to temporarily wash away any anxieties or fears that she felt. For added comfort, she stroked the keys without pushing down on them, all her worries fading to nothing.

… Until she heard the door creak open, that is.

Instantaneously, she was up and off of the bench, already stammering something in her defense.

He walked up to her, putting a hand over her mouth, though she was barely audible in the first place. "I figured you'd be in here if you weren't in the room," he said, the tired sound of his voice reaching her before his just-as-weary expression did. "I didn't hear you press any keys, so you're alright. For now."

Her relief was slight, almost insignificantly. "I-I was j-j-just organizing th-the f-f-fallen pap-pers," she muttered when he removed his hand, looking down at her fidgeting toes. She hated how she couldn't string together a clear sentence whenever he was around. "I-If you w-want me to-to l-l-leave..." She was already shuffling to the door when he caught her arm in his grip.

Tentatively, she peeked over her shoulder at him, afraid of what she might be looking at.

Surprisingly, all she saw was a rather serious expression, no traces of anger to be found.

"Do you know how to play that piece?"

"... What?" She wasn't sure if she had heard right. Was he really asking her such a simple question?

"Do you know how to play it? The Ostinato and its reprise?"

"Err, y-yes..."

She was then dragged back to the piano, the redhead taking a seat on the bench and pulling her down to sit beside him.

Lyra stared at him, the couple sitting in a tense silence. At least, his voice cutting through it, he said, "Play them. Both of them."

"B-But I th-thought you—"

"Just do it."

With shaky hands, she placed her fingers on the keys, taking a deep breath as she closed her eyes tight, beginning to play.

She let the fermata at the end of the piece hold out for only a few counts before she began the reprise, doing the same when she finished that composition as well.

While she had been playing, she had let the music flow through her, forgetting everything that was in the room besides herself and the piano, hands moving smoothly to do its legatos justice, her fingers twitching to further enhance the staccatos. Now, as she reopened her eyes, she flinched when she flinched and put a hand over her heart, reminded of who was also here with her. "S-sorry. I forgot you were watching..."

She crossed her ankles together, no longer needing to press down on the foot pedals, also folding her hands in her lap, staring down at her twiddling thumbs.

Her comment reminded Silver of a time when he was the same way, tuning out everything and anything around him to focus on one piece, regardless of its difficulty.

And he wanted to return to those days.

With her hands now off and unmoving, he placed his own hands on the keys. "Is this where you started?"

She shook her head no.

He grunted and changed the placement of his fingers. "Here then?"

There was another shake of her head.

After some few trials and errors, both were becoming gradually aggravated with how he couldn't find the right position. Eventually, the female pianist made a grunt herself, taking his hands and placing them in the proper F Major Seventh position. "_Here_," she said, obviously annoyed.

They just sort of stared at their hands, her smaller ones over his, the two shocked by this sudden assertiveness of hers. When they looked up to stare at each other, Lyra went back to her usual self, snatching her hands back and cowering in fear of any punishments she might be receiving for that. "I-I didn't m-m-mean t-t-to..." Her shoulders tightened as she hunched over, eyes shut tight.

Was she really that afraid of him? He didn't enjoy the way she flinched in his presence on behalf of him; each time he saw that, he could almost swear a part of himself would break, replacing the void with guilt and regret.

It felt worse when he couldn't bring himself to apologize for his actions, then and now. And even in this moment, he still couldn't bring himself to do it.

Sighing and leaving his woes alone for a later time, he patted her head while looking down at the piano, trying to tell her that she could at least be a little calmer, that he wasn't going to do anything to her.

Though, while he watched her play earlier, he noticed that she hadn't been wearing her wedding ring. Before he started playing, seeing if he could duplicate what she had done, he told her gruffly, "When we get back to the room, put your ring back on. I don't ever want to see you without it again."

The sound of the beginning notes drowned out her soft-spoken question, leaving her with a little pout instead.

She listened to him play, seeing that he had to read off of the sheet music, unlike her. His playing pace was a bit slower than it was supposed to be and he made a few mistakes here and there, but she forgave him for that, guessing that he hadn't played in years, his rustiness at it completely understandable.

By the time he had finished, there was a scowl on his face, beads of sweat on his forehead from concentrating so hard. He would have given up earlier, but his pride wouldn't let him. With an irritated sigh, he looked to her, waiting to hear her opinion, already thinking he did poorly.

Instead, she gingerly wiped the sweat from his brow with her hand, going so far as to push away the strands of hair that had gotten themselves stuck to his face.

He stayed still, unable to remember the last time she had willingly touched him, much less in such a tender way like this.

When she realized what she was doing and the unreadable expression he was giving her, she was swift in taking her hand back, contemplating her navel. "S-sorry. Uhm... you... you played w-well for s-someo-one who hasn't p-pl-played in-in a long time..." With a minute pause, she added, "A-At least, it d-do-doesn't seem l-like you've played in a-a w-wh-while..." She tapped her fingertips together, eyes flitting about, now unsure of where she should look.

"You're right. It's been years since I've touched a piano; far too long since I've used this one."

She let herself relax a little, but only that bit, more at ease because of the lack of scolding.

"And you seem to know what you're doing," he went on to say, putting his hands back on the keys with a dry chuckle. She wasn't sure where this conversation was going anymore. "So guide me through this. I need to fix what I did wrong," he said, almost like a command.

For a moment, she wondered if those words held a second meaning, mind wandering to what Giovanni had told her that morning.

But there was no way that that could possibly be true. His tone of voice was where her doubt lied.

"So... what sh-should... how should I help?" she asked, attempting to keep her stammering to a minimum, face turning pink with strain and effort.

"In any way you can."

She hesitated before she scooted closer to him, muscles tightening. It took every ounce of her energy to do this, pushing herself to be more courageous, placing her hands over his once again, explaining things to him.

He could feel how scared she was, able to feel her flighty heartbeat, her voice in hushed tones. He had to strain his ears a bit to hear her, but after some time, all he could do was stare at her, just observing her motions.

She cut herself of, every part of her frozen in place as she felt the kiss placed on her neck. She didn't know how to feel about this, her emotions now in a frenzy.

It was a sweet action and it wasn't the first time she was kissed like that, but the last person to do such a gentle thing like that to her was...

_Silver_.

When she turned her head to look at him, she saw him staring at her, face once again unable to be deciphered by her. She stared at his eyes, her caramel ones in his own blood red ones, saying far too many things at once.

"I... I..."

Her eyes were then priced with tears and, with swift, fluid motions, she left the room, feet caring her as far as she could go, the destination the last thing she cared about.

After watching the door shut, he slammed his forehead down on the keys, staring at the floor below. "Idiot! What were you thinking!" He growled at himself, sighing heavily.

"**You obviously weren't thinking at all.**"

Scowling at the voice, he let his head fall to the side, watching his left hand play a few notes, berating himself mentally for his sudden, stupid action.

'_Why can't I say it? Why can't I ask for her forgiveness? Can't she see I'm hurting just as much?_'

"**You see her for the first time in years and the first thing you do is scare her shitless and force her to marry you. Do you honestly think she can tell what you did affects you just as much as it does her? Silver, you have a very poor way of expressing emotions.**"

This voice of reason caused him to slam his hand down on the keys this time, acknowledging, albeit reluctantly, that it was right.

"What do I do?" he murmured to himself, Lyra's face right before she felt haunting him, feelings of regret weighing heavily on him.

"**If you want her to forgive you, you must first forgive yourself.**"

But he wasn't sure if that was possible.

Maybe some things just weren't able to be forgiven.

* * *

**A/N:** Wheeee~ drama.


	4. Agitated

Get used to the late night updates; those are kind of a thing now.

Also, subtle reference to _apologies and fallacies_. There's really only a certain part you need to read up to to understand where this story is going.

**_usual disclaimers apply._**

* * *

_**Agitated**_

_**—adjective  
**__- excited; disturbed  
__Music__ .  
- agitated; restless or hurried in movement or style_

_. = . = . = ._

'_Who the hell calls at four in the morning?_' was the first thought of her day as phone chirped, not letting up for even a second.

"Pick up the phone. You're right next to it, aren't you?"

She could only sigh as her arm reached out and felt around for it, her head not leaving the sweet sanctity of her pillow.

"Who was it?"

"A business partner of yours," she murmured, her back to him as she put the phone back, curling up tighter than she had already been. "The shipping company from Canalave in Sinnoh."

Silver nodded once to himself and threw aside his part of the covers, stepping out of bed. Once he was dressed and gone, she rolled over to the middle of the mattress, turning so that she was facing his side.

They did hardly any talking outside of the piano lessons they had at night; he was so adamant on learning the piece that he would wake her up had she fallen asleep just for more practice each night. It was almost as though she was nothing more to him than a teacher who was around much longer than she needed to be. Other than that brief hour or two in the dead of night, she only existed to him when it was necessary, as it was that particular morning.

Upon catching herself whiffing at the sheets, she felt disgusted and ashamed of herself, springing out of bed immediately. How could she have done that when it was the scent of the man who had betrayed her? How could she have had the fleeting thought that she missed the days when that scent once gave her comfort?

She tried to clear the thoughts and memories from her head as she showered, scrubbing at her skin as if the filth that never left her since that day were visible on her skin.

But all the vigorous scrubbing at her skin would never cleanse the contempt in her mind.

. ~ .

"Missus Lyra! You have a guest!" The brunette looked up from the flower bed she was staring at to see a maid now standing beside her. Staying true to her nature, the lyre just tilted her head to the side in question, not uttering a single word.

"He claims he is your best friend... he wouldn't give his name, but he said he's come to visit his little pianist?" Her face lit up almost instantly, a warm smile tugging at her lips. The maid was shocked to see such an expression on the young mistress' face; in the month that she had been living at the manor, she had never once made an expression quite like that one.

"Bring him here, please," she said with a light, chiming tone, clapping her hands together once and folding them in her lap. "Right away, my lady."

She was giddy with excitement, fidgeting in her seat with the joy she was just barely able to contain. "Hey hey. Long time, no see, eh?" The breath of the voice tickled at her ear and she jumped, looking over her shoulder to see a raven-haired boy beaming at her, leaning over her shoulder.

"Ethan!" Scrambling off of the slate bench, she flew into his arms, grasping him tightly.

Desperately.

As she gripped the back of his shirt, she began to sob, her overwhelming emotions becoming too much for her to handle. She went slack in his arms, but he was more than willing and able to support her weight, rubbing her back and shushing her soothingly. "I m-missed you... s-so m-much," she bawled, her tears collecting in the crook of his neck.

Once she was calmed enough, she pulled away, wiping at her sodden face with the heels and backs of her hands. "I'm so sorry! I just... I d-don't know w-what came ov-ver me..." He chuckled softly and pulled her into a hug, patting her head endearingly, able to feel how her body was still shivering. "Same old Lyra. I'm glad to see you haven't changed a bit. But more importantly, I think you need to sit down." She nodded and let him put an arm around her waist and hold her hand, setting her down carefully on the bench.

"So, how have you been?" He watched her carefully, chuckling dryly when he saw the grimace settle on her face. "That probably wasn't the best question to ask, was it? Sorry."

They sat in silence for a moment before he started to dig into his pockets. "But I do think I have something that just might cheer you up." She stared as his hand slowly lifted, gasping sharply, clamping her hand over her mouth.

In his hand laid six shrunken pokéballs glinting up at her, waiting on her touch. She could almost swear her heart had stopped beating for a minute or two. When her hand dropped, it exposed her slack jaw, showing her failed attempt to speak; she could not force herself to produce even a squeak.

"Speechless? Well, then again, you've never been one for words. Here, for you." Seeing as she was temporarily catatonic, he sighed with a little chortle at the end of it, taking her wrist and lifting her arm, sliding the devices into her opened palm.

The feel of smooth metal was like a jolt of electricity shocking her back to reality. She cupped them in her shaking palms, her eyes wide and unblinking as her mouth was still agape, dumbfounded. Drops fell onto the pokéballs, the lyre hiccuping as sobs wracked her body once again.

Ethan gathered her up into his arms, letting her cry into his chest as he put his chin on top of her head, closing his eyes. A piece of the broken girl had been set back into place.

"Oh goodness, I m-must look like a t-total wreck right n-now... I'm sorry f-for getting your sh-shirt dirty..." He smirked down at Lyra, tugging lightly and playfully at her hair. "Quite honestly, my dear madame, you are the strongest person I know. You've been trapped here for over a month now and you're still sane. You're still standing. A wreck, you say? You're nowhere near."

Once she was sitting upright again, she looked down at her encased companions. "Do you know h-how much t-trouble you can in for this? He'd k-kill you!"

"I'd go to the moon and back if it meant not seeing that look on your face again. Hell, if doing this means death, I'd do it ten times over." He remembered the day of the wedding quite clearly, the pained face she had made at him when that bastard dragged her away from him. "I don't know what I'd do if he were to make you make that expression again. You deserve happiness, Lyra. You deserve to smile again."

She stared up at him then, studying the seriousness set on his face.

She knew her friend and she knew him well. He had meant every single world, every single syllable.

"... Thank you, Ethan," she murmured, holding the metal to her heart. "I don't know how else I should express my gratitude."

"How about like this?"

"Like wha—"

All the air in her lungs was squeezed out of her as he hugged her tightly, his arms constricting her. "I missed you too, you know."

. ~ .

"Give me a tour."

"... What?"

"This is your new house, isn't it? I want a tour of the place. That's what you're supposed to do when you move into a new house and you have guests over, Lyra. Jeez, are you a bad host or what?" She narrowed her eyes at him and he could only laugh as he followed her.

"Pretty nice place he's got here. Then again, what were we expecting from the son of the former Team Rocket leader? Though it seems he's become richer the last time I was here. Remember that wild party—" He cut himself off as he recalled that she was not there that day since she and Silver had just broken up and the latter had no choice but to throw the party since the plans had already been made. "Well, that's not important."

Though they had made small talk and there were plenty of other things that should have distracted him from this as she made the tour, once they were back downstairs at the bottom of the staircase, he asked, "Hey, what about that door over there? Why didn't we go in there?"

"Ethan, we can't. That area's off-limits," she said quietly but firmly, grabbing the back of his shirt when he walked in the direction of it. "Let's go back to the garden."

"But the tour's not complete unless you show me everything." He shook off her hand and sprinted to the door.

"H-hey!" But by the time she caught up, the door was already open. His eyebrows raised in surprise as he stepped in, seeing the grand piano that took up a good portion of the room, the high windows above shining down at it. "Wow, look at this thing. Did you know that this was here?"

Her lips made a tight line as she nodded slowly. "No one is allowed to touch it unless he says so. And he's not here. Can we please go back to the garden now?" He frowned back at her, his brow furrowed. "But you love pianos. Why don't you play something? It's been a long time since I've heard you play, you know."

"Ethan, please..."

Seeing her pleading face, he sighed heavily and gave up, following her out of the room. "Fine, fine. We'll only break minimal rules while I'm here. Same old Lyra, avoiding trouble as much as she possibly can..."

They spent the rest of the day catching up on precious time lost, her companion recounting all of the things she missed while at the estate as they walked along the garden path. Her heart was filled with longing, missing the days that she went on adventures as the Pokémon League's reigning champion. Her thoughts roamed as he spoke, lost in her memories and imagination.

"Your mom misses you. A lot," he murmured suddenly once they returned to the bench, ripping her out of her fantasies. "She wanted me to tell you that if there's anything you need or if you ever want to escape, don't hesitate to ask. No matter what it is or the kinds of punishments she'll suffer, she'll do it for you if it means making you happy again. And the sames goes for me as well. After all, I was the first person you came to that day."

She folded her hands in her lap and stared down at her upturned palms, clenching her jaw as she remembered that day quite vividly. Quick to react, Ethan put a hand over Lyra's, squeezing them tightly. "Don't relive it. Please don't. That's the last thing I want you to do. We'll get through this, alright? Don't give up just yet."

As they sat through another silence, his PokéGear went off. "Sorry." He picked it up with a sheepish smile, clearing his throat before speaking. "Hey. Uh-huh. Yeah... right _now_?" A heavy sigh. "Alright. Bye." Kissing the side of her head, he hugged her. "I have to go, okay? But I'll be back tomorrow. Also, you may want to tell your maids not to let Silver know I was here. I'm sure that'll just make things worse."

She glanced up at him with a soft smirk. "Thank you for visiting."

"Anytime. You have my number. Hell, you know it by heart. If you need me to come by again today, just give me a call. I'll be here in minutes." He kissed her head one last time before getting up, walking backwards and saluting her with two fingers, a half grin on his face.

"That boy, I swear..."

. ~ .

With Silver on his business trip to Sinnoh, there was no reason for them to worry too much about getting caught. Each day Ethan visited, he stayed even later and later, even leaving in the dead of night at times.

"Why don't you just stay the night tonight?" Lyra asked with a frown after he announced he was leaving for the day. The time already read 5 AM. "It's not safe to go out when you're tired. I don't want anything happening to you." He rubbed his chin for a moment before smirking, leaning down to her level. "Only if you play me a piece on that piano first. You know the one."

"Ethan! You know I'm not allowed to do that! I'll get reprimanded for it if he finds out!"

"But that's the best part, my little pianist. He's not here to find out. No one has to know but us."

"Ethan."

"I won't stay until you do," he sang, standing upright as he laughed.

"Still the playful bastard that likes getting us into trouble, I see," she muttered mostly to herself. Shaking her head, she led the way to the piano room.

"... Wow," he whispered breathlessly, greeted by the sight of the ebony instrument bathing in the moonlight. "It looks completely different in here at night." Lyra could only nod; no words could do the sight justice.

"So? Go on, play it." He gave her a little push, following after her and sitting beside her on the bench.

"If it gets out that we were here..."

"Don't worry, I'll take the fall for you. This was my idea anyway. Now come on! Quit stalling."

She sighed and shook her head before poising her fingers on the keys. The sound flowed out seamlessly, the melody of that infamous Ostinato ringing throughout the entire manor. And he could only stare in wonder at the fabulous pianist, enchanted by the way she played so fluidly, as though the piano was a part of her.

When the final chord was struck and faded, he clapped excitedly for her, grinning widely. "That's my little pianist. I can see you've still got it. Or hear, rather. Ah, man. New Bark's been so quiet without you. Everyone misses your piano-playing. Especially me."

"You should have said something earlier. I would have played it for you had you asked."

"Liar. Just a minute ago, you said you weren't allowed to be in here, much less touch the damn thing."

"I never said I was going to play anything on _this_ piano."

"So you're offering to hold a private little concert just for me, eh? I'll definitely take you up on that offer next time." They both shared a chuckle and she rested her head on his shoulder, playing fragments of compositions here and there, his arm around her as he closed his eyes, his head atop hers.

"What the _fuck_ is going on here! Who said you were allowed in my manor!"

The gentle peace was shattered in an instant by the bullet of malice.

"S-Silver! I th-thought... they s-said you'd b-be b-back at the end o-of this week..."

"Surprise. I'm back early." He prowled toward them, eyes glinting, visibly upset even in the poor lighting. As Lyra was about to stand up, Ethan threw his hand out, standing up for her instead.

"Get the hell out of my sight. This matter does not concern you. Kindly show yourself out before I do it for you."

"No, actually, I think I'll stay. This is her house too, isn't it? I think she has the right to invite me and keep me here if she wants."

"Oh, does she? The last time I checked, only _my_ name was on the title. Now leave." He was face-to-face with the perpetrator he caught red-handed. The two men stared each other down, the tensions rising higher and higher by the second.

"Why? So you can hurt her some more as soon as I leave?" Silver flinched ever so slightly, his jaw tightening.

"Ethan..."

"No, Lyra," he quipped firmly, turning his head to look at her. "This has gone on long enough. He forced you into this marriage, didn't he? And after what he did to you, you're just gonna take it from him?"

With a rough shove, Silver sent Ethan stumbling back. He tripped over the bench and she was quick to move out of the way, narrowly avoiding getting entangled in the body that crashed down on the piano, sending the keys flying about.

"Oh no. Ethan! Are you alright! ?" She scrambled over to him, cradling his head. The lyre's hand touched dampness in his hair, watching the blood also leaking from his nose.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. This jackass just sent me reeling back."

"No. You're not fine. The back of your head is bleeding. You have a concussion," she lamented. Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. The alloy could only stand and watch the scene balefully, his fists clenching as he witnessed his wife tending to that homewrecker.

"This... this is far from over," he hissed vehemently, turning sharply on his heel and storming out of the room. His slam of the door had so much of an impact, was so momentous, that it merely swung itself open again, slightly off its hinges.

"Ethan... Ethan, why?" she murmured, her tiny voice cracking. "Why did you fight for me? You didn't have to do that."

"Heh, I know I didn't," he muttered weakly, patting the arm she had under his chin with a slight smile. "But it was for your safety. How could I not? You deserve better, Lyra. So much better."

And she could only sob as she crushed him into her bosom.

. ~ .

She spent her days in the garden, staring blankly at the greenery around her. Though she had let her team free to roam the outside, they stayed close to her whenever Silver was not around, trying to comfort her and bring her out of the depths of depression she had sunken into.

But nothing they did worked.

Ever since that incident two weeks ago, she had o't heard a thing from Ethan. Her husband was not saying a word to her and he did not show up for the lessons at the usual times. She had picked up the keys and repaired the piano after it had become apparent that the lessons were indefinitely suspended. What was one a beautiful instrument was now a tainted structure.

Even though she had cleaned the blood from the keys, she could still see the stains on the ivory, on her hands. It was her fault that such an unnecessary event happened and someone she loved early had gotten considerably injured.

And for her sake, no less.

Her Meganium had her head rested in her trainer's lap, the trainer herself mechanically stroking her head, lost in misery.

"Hey! Psst! Lyra!" She flinched a bit at the sound of her name while the pokémon was up on her feet, both searching for the source with a frown. That voice almost sounded like—

"Over here!" She saw a recognizable hand wave her over and she approached with caution, parting the bushes where the hand disappeared.

A sharp gasp.

"What the hell are you doing here!"

"Today's kind of an important day, if you catch my drift. Or have you forgotten? Regardless, I think it's more than necessary that you come with me. I'll help you escape, but you definitely need to change first. You can't go visiting him like that."

Her brow furrowed with confusion as she tried to figure out just what he was talking about, eyes widening with remembrance once it clicked. "Finally came back to ya, eh? Now hurry it up. Silver just left. You have a small window of time before he gets back and we need every second we've got."

As she made a mad dash up the stairs, brushing off her stumbles, she berated herself for forgetting what the date was, even though she had a well-enough excuse with all the chaos going on in her life.

It was his special day.

Red's special day.


End file.
